


Sleep

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: Darkness and Light [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, POV Clara Oswin Oswald, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scents & Smells, Sleep, Sleeping Together (as in: the same bed - sorry no smut), whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 15:10:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: The only thing Clara knows that will help a timelord with low life force is to get some bed rest. Now, how do you convince a deeply disturbed Doctor to get some good night sleep?





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is better with a good night sleep. And I couldn't resist to have a bed/sleep cute scene in this story. Sue me :-)

She was desperate. Not only that her best friend, soulmate and most important person in her universe was standing on the edge of regeneration. Obviously, he had _wanted_ to die, even if she didn’t know the exact circumstances. And he was too afraid to talk about his troubles with her because he feared she would think less of him.

How could she show him how deep she felt for him, although her oath to Danny and her fear of ruining their relationship kept her from telling him she loved him? How could she make him understand that nothing mattered more than his wellbeing?

She cupped his cheek with her hand, softly stroking it with her thumb. Maybe she could word it in a way that made him understand. Maybe she should start with the problem that troubled him most right now. As she learned from the short paragraph she read in the biology book, regeneration was the only known treatment for his condition. His main fear seemed to be that she would leave him if he did. Thinking back on how she initially reacted when he regenerated last time, she saw where this fear was rooted. Especially as there was a certain likeliness that the next regeneration would have disabilities stemming from the loss of energy.

“If regeneration is the only option, I’m here and I will stay with you. And I don’t care if the next Doctor is blind or has no legs or looks like a Slitheen.”

At the same time, she didn’t want him to regenerate if there was another option, because she loved this incarnation. She didn’t want to lose her grey-haired stick-insect of a timelord. Something he seemed to have difficulties to believe. Better to tell him again.

“I don’t know how the relationship with a new regeneration would be and I’m pretty sure I prefer this version of you to any other. But of course, I will stay with you after regeneration, because you are the Doctor, and this is what matters most.”

His brain was still not completely shielded, so she felt that her words sank in and reached his hearts. His reaction was a mental sigh of relief that felt warm in her own heart. She also felt his helplessness, sadness and fear. She felt him leaning his face more into her touch. Looking down at the grey curls, she felt how much she loved this incarnation, maybe even more now that she had learned how much deeper and darker, but also how vulnerable he was on the inside.

“Now, don’t you think you should show me what happened, so I understand? Maybe we find a way out of this together?”

She felt his fear taking over, overpowering everything else. She retreated her hand to break the bond so the fear wouldn’t paralyze her, too. Her intuition told her she needed to tread carefully now.

“Okay, it’s okay, Doctor. Don’t worry. How about this: all records and the book indicate that a bed rest is good for you. Why don’t you lie down here, make yourself comfortable?”

He looked to the bed, then back at her with a look that was hard to place. Insecure? Confused? Not sure it was a good idea? She assumed that it was easier to look inside than to ask him. His shields were still down. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

_Waves crashed over her. An onslaught of fears and horrors. Brutal, merciless, consuming every rational though. She felt like drowning but tried to keep a clear thought. _

_Questions. _

_What was the question here? Why had she made the connection? _

_Easy: What was the most pressing fear? What was the horror of lying down and get some bed rest?_

_There she saw it, the one distinct fear floating on top of all others: _

_The fear of her leaving him alone in his room. _

_The fear of not feeling her near._

_Near, to make sure she was still there._

_Near, so he knew she was in safety._

_Near, so he knew that he had still some time left together with her before she would ultimately be ripped from his side. _

_She fought the waves of fear back. _

_That was all she needed to know for now._

She forced herself to break the bond. She allowed herself a short moment to breath and calm down her nerves, assuring herself that she was in safety in the TARDIS.

Then she softly massaged his shoulders. Their eyes met. She saw the fear in them. Knowing the full brutality of his fears now firsthand, she understood why he was hesitant to bond telepathically. If she wanted to help him, she had to help him staying afloat on a whole ocean of unknown depth, made of fear and horror.

But first, she had to make sure he got some rest. Then she would think about the regeneration problem, maybe they overlooked something. And only then it was time to worry about other issues.

“Doctor, how about this: you make yourself comfortable and snuggle into bed, the way you like it. But you leave a spot for me, so I can lie beside you. That way you can decide how close you want me to be. I promise you I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to leave.”

He nodded hesitantly but still didn’t move. She took her hands down. What else had she missed? Probably he felt insecure undressing in front of her. Who knows? He was a bit awkward with certain things, a sharp contrast to his previous self.

“I’m over there, at your workbench, admiring the tools. I will join you when you tell me you are ready.”

She turned her back and went over to his workbench where all sorts of wires, gears and half-finished projects lay around, while his tools hung on the wall in painstaking order, not a single tool missing or lying around. She heard him getting up and the rustling of clothes behind her. A few minutes later she heard him nestling around with the duvet. Then all was silent. For a moment she wasn’t sure if he would say something or if he was too shy or too tired.

“Clara.” It was nearly a whisper.

She looked around. The timelord was lying in the bed on his side, face to the wall in a crouched embryo position. He had pulled the duvet over his shoulders. As she was already wearing her comfy clothes and she didn’t know if he would feel comfortable with her under the same duvet, she decided to stay dressed. She laid beside him, facing his back, an arm’s length away from his body.

“Comfortable?” She asked.

He nodded.

She couldn’t resist the urge to stroke his head. He gave no indication that he liked it, but he didn’t shy away either.

“Try to sleep. Give your mind and your body a chance to heal. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I keep you safe.”

A deep sigh. She felt him tremble slightly. He reached out for her hand with his clouted hand, indicating he wanted her closer. She wrapped herself around him from behind. The duvet kept their bodies separated. She held him protectively.

He was tense. Even without a telepathic connection she thought she could place the type of tension because she knew it all too well herself. It was a tension of someone who wanted to cry but didn’t give himself permission to do so.

“It’s okay, Doctor. Crying is a way your soul can cope with stress. It’s a very intelligent thing your body wants to do to help your soul recovering. Don’t believe what they might have told you when you were a child. It’s not shameful or cowardly to cry. Even saviors of worlds are allowed to cry. Maybe especially saviors of worlds, because they see so much pain and so many horrors.”

A deep-drawn sigh. Then he shook his head.

“Can’t.”

“Oh, sure you can. Give yourself the permission to cry. Don’t be so cruel to yourself.”

She felt something like a sob.

“I don’t know how. It’s this body. I'm malfunctioning.”

He sounded so desperate it cut right through Clara’s heart.

“It’s okay, Doctor. Don’t focus on crying. It doesn’t matter if you can or cannot. Just relax.”

If this coping strategy didn’t work, what else could help him? He was still tense and seemed more miserable than before if this was even possible.

“This doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you, Doctor. Perhaps it’s just not the right coping mechanism at this point. Or you need something else. What do you do when you are sad or anxious or don’t know what to do and need to calm your nerves? I wrap myself in warm blankets, make hot chocolate and watch some old murder mysteries on Netflix. Or I listen to sad music and drink wine. There must be something this Doctor does.”

For a moment she thought the Doctor had managed to cry, because she couldn't place the sound he was making. 

“As if you don’t know it, Clara Oswald.” His voice came muffled and soft, with a slight hint of embarrassment.

“What do I know?” She was confused. 

“Whenever I’m sad or anxious or don’t know what to do… or if I’m confused or undecided… or just bored… I land the TARDIS in your flat.”

She was taken aback. This was not what she had expected. With a whole universe of distractions and beautiful places at hand, he chose the flat of a schoolteacher in London.

“My flat?”

He nodded.

“Even when I’m not there?”

Another nod.

“Of course, it’s better when you are there. Everything is better when you are with me.”

His voice had dropped to a whisper. She swallowed hard. For the very uptight standards of this incarnation, this was a love confession.

“What do you do when I’m not there?”

It took a while before he replied. He was obviously embarrassed to speak about it.

“When you are not there… I just wander around in your flat and smell your smell. Your smell is unique and it’s everywhere. It’s most intensive on the pillow where you rest your head when you lie on your sofa…. Sometimes… sometimes I just lie down there to smell it. It helps me to calm down, think and make sense of whatever problem I have.”

She thought that she would have found this revelation creepy if it had come from any other man. From him it sounded sweet, pure and innocent. A mighty timelord breaking into a flat to rest his head on a schoolteacher’s pillow to soothe him – the thought was endearing. And it gave her something to work with.

“That’s good, Doctor. That means you know what you need to help you. And the good thing is that I can provide it without any effort.”

Unfortunately, that meant she had to break the protective position she held now. She stroked his hand reassuringly before she continued:

“Okay now, I tell you what we do: I turn around and you turn around. You just place your nose next to my hair. I always found that a person smells most distinctive like themselves on their head. If my scent is what soothes you this should do the trick and help you relax.”

She turned her back on him. After a while she heard him inhale sharply, as if he had come to a decision. She heard him turn around. She felt an arm reaching around her, slow and somehow insecure. She took his hand, reassuringly. Then she felt his head closing in on her head, placing his nose in her hair. She heard him taking a deep breath.

“There, there. Everything is going to be alright; we will sort this out tomorrow. You sleep tight and let your body do the healing.”

“I think I can’t.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Nightmares. You will have them too when we are so close. I have no control of my telepathic bonding once I’m asleep.”

Of course. Nightmares. She hadn’t thought of that. Nightmares were the evil twins of the flashbacks. Disturbing the much-needed sleep, torturing the soul with images even more horrific than the original trauma. And the fear of the nightmares could bring people to try and stay awake, weakening body and soul even further.

As she thought about it, maybe the Doctor’s boasting that he only needed catnaps was indeed a sign of him avoiding deep sleep for the fear of his nightmares. Not good under normal circumstances, but in his current condition outright dangerous. She needed to convince him to sleep. Maybe his subconsciousness could be tricked as well if she was convincing enough.

“Don’t you worry, daft old man. There is this duvet between us, I think this will help to prevent involuntary bonding. But there won’t be any nightmares. I, Clara Oswald, am standing between you and your nightmares. I will fend them off when they come. My scent will keep you safe and you will sleep peacefully and undisturbed.”

She patted his hand.

“You are very brave, Clara Oswald.”

There was still some tension left.

“Just take deep breaths, in and out, in and out.”

She pressed his hand to her stomach, setting the pace. She felt him mimicking her breaths in her hair. She hoped her scent would do the rest, helping him to relax and find some sleep.

“Just sleep, Doctor. Just sleep. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m keeping the watch.” 

She laid there, listening. After a while his breathing came less forced, more natural. Soon she felt his whole body relax.

She started to think about how she could prevent him from regenerating, but immediately realized that the thought alone upset the bundle of a timelord that effectively surrounded her. So, she forced herself to focus on peaceful things.

She pictured herself standing on a purple shore on Aries 5, the orange ocean softly covering her feet with lilac sand, just to wash it away again. A soft ripple of orange water, mimicking the rhythm of her breath.

After a while the Doctor’s breathing became calm and even, his hand slackened in hers. A slight, nearly unnoticeable snoring noise in her hair told her he had fallen asleep. She listened to it as if it was some beautiful music.

To her, it was.


End file.
